


Perspective

by waterandsilver



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Gen, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Culture, Self-Esteem Issues, The fire nation is a fucked up place, Victim Blaming, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterandsilver/pseuds/waterandsilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Events at the Boiling Rock put Zuko in a different kind of danger, and force to light a secret that he's been holding onto for far too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Please take note of the tags! There's some heavy stuff here.
> 
> This isn't my first fanfic, but it's my first on AO3 and I'd really appreciate feedback. Also, I wrote it on a whim at 2AM. Strange minds.

The cell they’ve put him in is dark and humid. The walls are made of metal, and they reek of it. Zuko’s not sure how long he’s been in here – it feels like days, but he’s smart enough to know that that’s his boredom speaking.

He can wait. He’s good at waiting, when it’s for something worthwhile. Now, though, he’s just waiting on Sokka, which isn’t exactly reassuring.

Zuko is staring into space when the door opens. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk. A single prison guard enters, closing the door carefully behind him. It still makes a horrible screeching sound. If Zuko were in the mood to joke, he’d make a remark about the rusty hinges. He is rarely in that mood.

“What is it?” he asks cautiously.

The guard is on his own, and he doesn’t know what to make of that. He doesn’t recognise him either: tall with a nondescript face. He takes a few steps forward, and Zuko’s hand curls into a fist behind his back.

“The Warden sent me. He has a message for you.”

Zuko feels his eyes narrow. If his suspicions were already rising, well, that just accelerated the pace.

But before he can say another word, though, the guard lunges. Zuko reacts quickly, rolling out of his reach. He ducks a punch. The guard’s fits swings into air. Zuko catches a glimpse of his face – darkened with anger – and feels his stomach drop.

_A message._

_No..._

They're too close for firebending, but he can still hit the guy. The guard is big - that can make a person clumsy. Slow. Zuko twists and delivers a roundhouse kick to his stomach, fast, using speed to his advantage. The guard staggers back, grunting.

_The door_ , Zuko’s instincts scream at him. _Go for the door!_

It’s locked; it must be. But it’s the only way out. Zuko bolts for the door, but he’s not quick enough. A rough hand grabs his shoulder, shoves him into the wall. Pain explodes in Zuko’s back. He inhales sharply.

“You little bitch,” the guard growls.

One hand tightens on his shoulder, digging bruises into Zuko’s skin. He tries to struggle free, but the guy is too tall, too strong; he’s build like an earthbender. Overwhelming vulnerability washes through Zuko. _No no no no no..._

Then the guard’s fist connects with his face, stunning him. For a moment Zuko doesn’t know up or down or ground or air. He crashes heavily to the floor, registering only numb pain through a swarm of stars. In the time it takes to regain his senses, the guard grabs his wrists together in an iron lock and pins him down, knees between his legs. He gets in another blow, sinking a fist into Zuko’s gut, punching all the air out of him. Zuko hacks out a breathless cough, his body curling up automatically.

Warm breath curdles at his throat.

“Not so tough now, are we, Your Majesty?”

_What are you going to do, Your Highness? Firebend your way out? You don’t have it in you…_

A hand grabs the hem of his pants, wrenches them down, and panic swells inside of Zuko. Adrenaline takes hold like a wild animal, roaring into life. Zuko lashes out, thrashing, yelling, blind. Somehow he lands a kick in the ribs; the blow reverberates up his leg.

The man falls back with a soft _oof_ , and Zuko takes his chance. He launches onto him, digs his knees into the guard’s chest, and punches him in the face with all his strength. The crack of his nose splintering is the most satisfying noise Zuko’s ever heard. He raises his bloodied knuckles and slams them down again, probably breaking the bastard’s jaw. Zuko doesn’t even firebend. He doesn’t need to. He smashes and smashes with every lick of fiery rage and pain that he possesses behind one fist, until the man’s face is nothing but a sodden mess of blood and swollen skin.

But fear still trembles under his skin.

***

They take ten minutes to arrive. The Warden charges into the cell with two guards on either shoulder, by which point Zuko is reclining on his bunk, arms crossed, with nothing but bloodstained hands and ruffled hair to hint at the fight.

The would-be rapist is passed out on the floor. Zuko didn’t care enough to check if he was breathing.

The Warden glares. Zuko returns the favour. He isn’t blind enough to think that the Warden’s arrival is a coincidence.

“Take him to the infirmary,” he orders two of the guards. The man is plucked from the floor and carried away. The Warden peers at the body as it passes. “What, no firebending? Scared of us already, Prince Zuko?”

He isn’t longing for another spell in the cooler, no, but they can’t know that. Especially not while he’s in shock.

Zuko feels like he’s been hit by a train. His breaths are coming fast and shallow, and every inch of his body is trembling. He needs more than anything to stay calm. To recover.

“Don’t flatter yourself. He wasn’t worth the effort.”

A peculiar smirk plays on the Warden’s lips. It’s as muggy in the cell as anywhere in the prison, but a sudden shudder runs down Zuko’s spine. The Warden steps forward, circling Zuko like a spider would a trapped fly.

“Do you know what I think, Your Highness? I think you weren’t really trying to stop him.”

“Was smashing his face in not enthusiastic enough for you?” he retorts, but his insides are icy. Dammit, he doesn’t _need_ this…

“Perhaps not. Perhaps you were enjoying it too much. After all… it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

The words his Zuko like another punch in the gut. It’s too much. He feels all the blood drain from his face, leaving him lightheaded. His ears ring.

_He knows._

But _how_? How can he possibly know about… about _that_?

The Warden’s bloodthirsty smirk widens at Zuko’s expression.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re sick,” Zuko says shakily. “You can rot in hell with him.”

That’s when Sokka bursts into the cell. He has his helmet on, but who else would trip through the door so dramatically?

Zuko feels half-dazed, like he’s been jerked too quickly from a dream.

“Messenger hawk in your office, sir!” Sokka gasps. “It looks urgent.”

The Warden heaves an irritable sigh. “Isn’t it always?” he mutters, signalling to the remaining guards to accompany him.

“I’ll stay with the prisoner, sir,” Sokka offers, winking at Zuko through his visor.

“Yes. Good.”

Zuko thinks that’s it, that the miserable bastard will disappear out of the cell and he can forget it ever happened. Like he’s been doing for the past two years. But just as the Warden reaches the door, he pauses. Turns back around.

“I have my eye set on you, Prince Zuko. If I smell so much as a whiff of trouble from your direction… don’t you think your fellow inmates would find your little secret amusing?”

The door shuts with a resounding clang. Zuko’s gut churns like a tornado is spinning inside of him.

“Zuko? Are you okay? What happened to your face?”

And now he has to pretend to be fine. Because Sokka. This is shaping up to be the worst day Zuko’s had in a long time.

***

This really isn’t Sokka’s day. Not at all. Firstly, they chickened out of escaping, on a whim that his dad might turn up tomorrow. Sokka is only just beginning to realise how thin that chance may be.

Then, to make matters _worse_ , someone in the guards’ quarters lets slip that the Warden was “sending that stuck up prince a visitor” tonight. A little _notice_ would have been nice. Sokka has to run up to the Warden’s office to check they had their facts right, then, when he finds the room empty, fake a note from the mythical “Eastern Fire Prison”, and _then_ sprint back down to Zuko’s cell to save the day.

It gives him a stitch. A bad one.

But it gets rid of the Warden, after he spews out some cryptic garbage about Zuko’s “secret”. So Sokka considers the mission an overall success. When he pulls off his helmet and turns to Zuko, though, he knows that something’s wrong. Zuko is white as a sheet, perched on the edge of his bunk with his head handing down. Sokka can just about see the cut on his cheekbone, crusted with dried blood. The skin is shadowed, hinting at the beginnings of a bruise.

It looks like somebody… punched him.

Sokka suddenly wonders exactly what this "visit" entailed.

“Zuko? Are you okay? What happened to your face?”

Sokka sees Zuko’s shoulders hunch and tense up.

“I’m fine.”

He’s not. Sokka's hardly an expert on reading people, but even he can tell that. Zuko shifts slightly, his hands unclasping, and Sokka sucks in a sharp breath.

“Is that blood? Zuko, what the hell happened?”

There’s a long pause. Too long. Then—

“The Warden sent a guard to… interrogate me. He didn’t get very far.”

So, in essence, he beat the shit out of someone. Well, it sure is a relief to know that Zuko’s on their side now.

Sokka edges forward uncertainly.

“Damn,” he says lamely. “That… that sucks.”

The other boy laughs, but there’s no humour in it. Sokka's not actually sure that it's a laugh.

“Yeah,” Zuko elaborates helpfully.

The silence in the cell is tangible. Sokka’s never been the most patient of people, and he finds his mind drifting back – back to the Warden’s parting words.

“Zuko, what did the Warden mean when he mentioned your ‘secret’?”

Zuko’s eyes don’t leave the scuffed cell floor.

“It’s not important. I don’t want to talk about it.”

A typical Zuko response. Was Sokka an idiot, thinking that they’d gotten past all the loner behaviour, all the brooding?

Suddenly, he’s frustrated. With this place; with this whole shitty situation. There’s so much on the line right now – and Zuko’s acting like he couldn’t give a flying fuck.

So, Sokka persists. Into areas that he probably shouldn’t.

“If it’s information that could help us…”

“It’s not,” Zuko says shortly. “It’s personal. Cut it out.”

Sokka huffs in annoyance, folding his arms.

“What?” Zuko snaps.

“Well, you ask us to trust you but you hardly ever give us a reason to! I mean, I feel like we’re treading water here, Zuko. We’ve got no escape plan, no idea if my dad’s even going to be here or if this entire fiasco was pointless… and you’re still keeping secrets!”

Zuko finally looks up – and there’s something wretched in his gaze. Sokka’s glare of annoyance falters.

And then Sokka visibly watches the fire prince's resolve crumble. Exhaustion washes over his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You want answers? Fine. One of the guards was trying to _get personal_ with me when the Warden walked in.”

Sokka’s mouth falls open. Awful, cringing horror spreads through him. He hadn’t expected that.

He hadn’t expected that at all.

“Shit – are – are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Zuko bites out. “I can handle myself.”

Sokka swallows hard, averting his eyes. Dammit, why did he have to open his big mouth? Just the thought of someone trying to… to _rape_ Zuko, only minutes before he walked in… Sokka feels sick to the stomach. He’s going to throttle the bastard. He doesn’t know how the hell _Zuko_ ’s coping.

He tries to mumble an apology, but the other boy doesn’t hear it.

“The Warden thought it was pretty funny,” Zuko recounts bitterly. “And somehow, he… he knew about something. Something he shouldn’t have.”

“Do you mean…?” Sokka gnaws on his lip, praying that this isn’t going in the direction he fears it is.

Zuko isn’t even angry – a warning sign in itself. He drops his head into his hands, raking his fingers through sweat-dark strands of hair. He looks utterly exhausted, far older than his years.

“There was an incident,” he says in a flat, muffled voice. “Shortly after I was banished. I was stupid. I went out alone. This… soldier, a rival of my father’s, ambushed me. He did some nasty things.”

The worst curse Sokka knows falls from his tongue. Zuko huffs another wrecked, mirthless laugh. It’s a horrible sound.

“Yeah. Like I said. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I… I didn’t know…”

“Why would you? The man was a commander of a Fire Nation fleet. He couldn’t exactly go around bragging about how he’d fucked the Fire Lord’s son.” Sokka flinches. Zuko doesn’t notice. “I was young. And naïve. And just so fucking stupid. I thought I could handle him… but it turned out I couldn’t. I was _weak_ , Sokka… and _nobody was supposed to know_!”

Fire shoots from Zuko’s fists, lighting up the dark cell with blinding orange. Channels of flame surge into the floor. Zuko’s face is drenched in sweat and firelight, features so twisted than for a second Sokka doesn’t recognise him.

Then a broken half-sob slips from his throat, and Sokka springs into action. He sinks to the floor, ignoring the volcanic heat, crouching close enough so that Zuko can’t ignore him.

“Hey! Look at me!”

Those haunted golden eyes glance up, and the fire wavers a little. Sokka’s hand moves instinctively to Zuko’s shoulder, but he pulls away sharply, shrinking in on himself. Sokka whips his hand back, cursing his own stupidity.

“Zuko, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you tell me those things.”

The other boy blinks slowly, and the fire retracts back into his palms. Imprints of the flame pillars still roar on Sokka’s eyelids.

“You didn’t know,” Zuko echoes hoarsely.

“Yeah, but I knew were you were uncomfortable. And I asked anyway. I’m a dick like that sometimes.”

Miraculously, the corner of Zuko’s lip actually twitches.

“Sometimes,” he agrees.

Then Sokka turns serious.

“I shouldn’t have asked, but I’m glad you told me. Because you’re wrong, Zuko. Being… treated like that doesn’t make you weak. It makes that guy a _monster_.”

Zuko is shaking his head. “You don’t understand. In the Fire Nation, for a prince to submit like I did, to a man of a lower rank…”

Anger coils in Sokka like a snake.

“Yeah? Well, the Fire Nation is full of fucking bullshit. You didn’t submit to anything. You were violated.”

“I’m not a fucking victim,” Zuko hisses.

“Don’t put that label on it, then. You had something horrible happen to you. You didn’t choose it, and it wasn’t your fault.”

Zuko stares at Sokka like he’s lost his mind.

“What happened to the guy?” Sokka asks, half-hoping that the bastard’s still around so he can murder him himself.

“Dead,” Zuko says shortly. “He died at the North Pole – from what I’ve heard.”

“Huh. Good.”

Some of tension has cleared, and Sokka’s feeling increasingly awkward poised like this on the floor. He scrambles to his feet gracelessly, clicking at least three joints in the process.

“Sokka?”

Zuko’s voice is small and vulnerable.Sokka looks over at the fire prince – and suddenly he’s struck by how _young_ he is. Red-eyed, clad in bland prison garb with his hair flopping over his face, he’s never looked more like a teenager.

Sokka dredges up the memory of the raging, obsessed prince that stormed into his village eight months ago. He’s always known that Zuko is tough. But now? Now he knows that Zuko is strong as well.

“… Thank you.”

Sokka smiles softly. “No problem. Do you want me to stay a while?”

Zuko visibly relaxes, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Yes.”

Sokka knows that someone will become suspicious if he doesn’t return to the guard’s quarters tonight. He doesn’t care. Where he comes from, you take care of your own.

He stays with Zuko till morning.


End file.
